


A Night Out On The Town

by Riptide



Series: Sanguinarius Sanctus [5]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angry Sex, Bondage, Dominance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Kink Meme, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1541840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riptide/pseuds/Riptide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hawkes have taken Varric and Anders on some mad fucking quest, leaving Isabela to her own devices...which means Isabela's getting into trouble. Meanwhile, Aveline's begun training to assume her post as Captain of the Guard, and one of the Hawkes' friends making trouble is the last kind of headache she needs. When Aveline's tasked with taking care of the wily pirate, things don't exactly go as planned, however...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was basically a fill in search of a kinkmeme; it takes place in the 'Sanguinarius Sanctus' canon, roughly between Chapters 21 and 22 of my DA2 novel 'Birds of Prey' (see my profile if you're interested).
> 
> Thanks so much to buttercup23 for awesome beta-reading!

_Kirkwall Docks_

_16 August 9:32 Dragon_

oOoOo

She hadn't drunk a sip at the Hanged Man since she ran up Varric's tab to the breaking point, about two weeks back, and tonight was no different. "Give me another," she meant to say as she slammed her pewter cup down onto the uneven countertop, but she only managed a slurred "Guh-" when the fucking clay broke up on the wood like a fishing skiff in stormy seas, and dark rum splashed the front of her bodice. " _Balls_. Barkeep, I need another!"

The bartender, a portly old man with a grizzled beard, barely paused wiping out a filthy mug with an even filthier rag. "I think ye've had enough, lady," he grunted, "leastwise 'til ye've settled up the last six I give ye." His mud-brown eyes shifted from the mess of the countertop to her front, a hungry edge honing beneath his bushy brow. "If'n ye've not got the coin, lass, I'm sure we could make other arrangements."

Isabela shivered, her chest heaving with her sudden gasp; the slop's leer wouldn't normally do anything for her, but it's been a long time since she's fallen into a stranger's bed...longer than she's shown her face to Corff, up in Lowtown. Six cupfuls of rum also didn't help her judgment any, and before she knew it, the pirate's shoulders drew back and she drew another breath, her tongue slithering to catch a rogue drop of grog at the corner of her mouth. "Why, I'm not sure I quite understand what you mean, serah," she drawls, feigning an innocence she hasn't been able to pull off since she escaped the pig her mother sold her to. "I'm  _so sorry_  for breaking the cup, but you see how clumsy I am. I don't think I could wash out enough mugs to pay off any debt I owe you." She leaned forward as she spoke, planting her elbows onto the uneven board and resting her chin on her knuckles, so that her forearms threatened to blockade the view of her cleavage. "What other kinds of work would a poor little lass like me be able to do in such a fine establishment?"

The barkeep tilted his head, like he didn't know how pathetic he was, his eyes still shining like he thought he was a predator.  _Fool_. The mood Isabela was in, he'd be lucky to see the morning with his throat unslit after she'd taken what she seemed to want from the bastard. "Oh, I think we can find sommat else for them fingers of yers to do, lass," he said, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

Before the pirate could slip the snare around his neck, though, the dingy barroom door slammed open behind her, swinging so hard on its hinges that it bounced off the door and bounced again off something metallic. " _Isabela!_ " The voice was one she knew, or at least one she'd heard before; thick and tinny, gruff, full of the kinds of self-loathing and self-control that she never had the patience for.

Steeling herself with a breath, Isabela spun about on her stool, ignoring the barkeep's strangled gasp-he must've finally seen the daggers at her back and realised he was being had, the idiot-and a grin splashed across her face like a mermaid's tail. "Big Girl!" She called, unconcerned that the guardswoman had her templar shield in one arm and her sword in the other, and a murderous look in her eyes. "Come on in and pull up a chair. Old pot-belly here was about to ask me to slurp on his spigot." A wave of intoxication washed through the pirate, and she tilted her head back, until the barkeep's bearded face loomed upside-down in her vision. "D'you mind if the ginger joins us, love?"

By some miracle, the man had kept hold of the mug he'd been dirtying up, but his face spasmed from lingering lust to naked rage, and then to fear. "I wants me no trouble with the city guard," he pled, raising both his hands at the woman advancing into his establishment. "Gots me a legitimate business, 'ere."

His gesticulations were  _boring_ , so Isabela flipped her head right-way-up again and husked a laugh at how the room spun. "Ah, well," she mused, shrugging and striking a languid pose against the bartop, her ankles crossed and elbows propping her sideways. "Looks like it's just you and me, Bi-"

Aveline had crossed the floor by then, and she didn't move like  _she'd_  had six cups of rum in the last hour. "Shut up," she barked, her armoured gloves biting into Isabela's exposed shoulders, just above her collarbones. "You're coming with me," the guardswoman hissed. Isabela tried jerking out of the woman's ungodly grip; landing on her arse would be a sight better than landing in the brig, after all. Unfortunately for the pirate, Aveline's knee blocked a sideways parry, and Isabela found herself flipped over and slammed face-first into the bartop. A wet piece of ceramic glinted prettily a half-inch from her eye. "Not in the mood for any more of your shenanigans tonight," the red-haired woman went on, making short work of shackling Isabela's forearms together behind her back. "I apologise, serah," she told someone, probably the oaf of a bartender, as she stripped Isabela of her daggers. "She's been to three grog shops already this evening and skipped her tab."

"Ye'll get no complaints from me for takin' her away, messere," the old bastard warbled, probably still holding his hands up like a ninny.

The guardswoman evidently took that as the conclusion of her business with the man, and with a grunt of her own, she dragged Isabela back off of the counter. Rum stung the pirate's eyes, and the extreme torque of her arms made her heave her chest out all the farther, but Isabela couldn't appreciate the bartender's hungry glance for more than a heartbeat before Aveline had her spun around and marching out the still-open door. "Look at you, Big Girl," Isabela purred, once the stench of the bar was replaced by the stench of the docks. "Parading me through town like the catch of the day."

Aveline cinched the pirate's arms even higher behind her back, until Isabela's shoulders burned with a sweet ache that she'd missed since...since a while. "I told you to shut up, _whore_ ," the guardswoman rasped, breath hot in her ear, down the side of her neck, pushing away memories of the last time Isabela felt her arms ache and her cunt burn quite like this.

Isabela's legs betrayed her, the rum making her  _more_  steady than she meant, and they weren't long in nearing a set of narrow stone steps that would lead them up to Lowtown proper. "You didn't tell the oaf that I'd robbed the last bartender that tried to fuck me," she pointed out as they mounted the first steps, because fuck Aveline if she thought Isabela would ever go anywhere quietly.

A growl answered the pirate's taunt. "You'll be the end of me, you thieving-I'm to be the Captain of the Guard, and here I am cleaning up your messes. Should've just let you suck his cock and be done with it...now that Anders is in the Deep Roads, there's nobody to clean the pox out of your mouth on a weekly basis."

That stung, a little, and it wasn't sweet at all. Not that Isabela particularly cared how Aveline felt...but it had been fourteen days since Anders had gone off under the ground, with Varric and the Hawkes, and Isabela hadn't drunk quite enough to keep the finger of worry from worming its way into her belly at the thought of them. It was almost enough to take the tingle from her thighs, and  _that_  wouldn't do at all. "The barkeep?" She slurred, half-stumbling as they reached a landing but her foot tried to take another step. "He seemed quite...cowed by you, Big Girl," she observed. "That seems pretty common."

"Funny," Aveline snarled, pushing her toward the next flight of steps. "Doesn't seem to keep  _you_  out of my hair, slattern."

 _Oh,_ now  _you're just begging for it_. "Perhaps I'm...ill-equipped?" She mused, stumbling more effectively that time, so that her captor had to halt or risk being dragged down onto the stone. "Do men find you intimidating, Big Girl?" She wondered, as though they were both chasing after the Hawkes, rather than playing cop-and-robber. Another uncharitable thought struck her, and she was  _definitely_  drunk enough to share it. "What about Wesley? Did he?"

The pirate swallowed a moan at the force that yanked back and up on her arms, wrenching her shoulders and arching her spine. " _Isabela_ ," Aveline growled just beneath her ear, drawing out every syllable like it was an arrow.

Isabela's head tilted sideways of its own accord, her neck alight with a spiderweb of nerves. "What?" She gasped, a pained note of longing hiding in her voice. "Too soon?"

"Too soon," the guardswoman snarled, "too personal, too…" She was quaking with barely-contained rage, but the effect was somewhat overwhelmed by the feel of her rough lips brushing-quite by accident-over Isabela's earlobe. "... _everything_ , coming from you!"

"Oooh," the pirate moaned, rolling her hips back into the solid plate of Aveline's armour. "Sore spot?"

Then she was pitched sideways, her arm and hip slamming into the sandstone wall before Aveline pushed her back up against it, a forearm locking over the pirate's collarbones. "If you don't  _shut up_ ," she yelled, "I'll give you a sore spot!"

Isabela could barely catch her breath, each one threatening to rip the fragile laces of her bodice, the tops of her breasts pressing into the cool metal and leather of the guardswoman's gauntlet. "That sounded like a promise, Big Girl," she drawled, her eyes weaving down the splash of freckles on Aveline's cheeks and chin, down her neck to the kerchief she kept tied around her neck. "Tell me," the pirate mused, her knees trembling slightly, and not just from the rum. "When was the last time you let anybody see what you're hiding under that armour?" She'd never known Aveline before she joined the city guard, though according to Carver, the woman could fill out a peasant's shirt like it was a customs bill...and now the pirate was curious and horny, on top of being drunk. A glance back up at Big Girl's face revealed a certain glinting at the corners of her eyes. "Aww, are you  _crying_ , Bi-"

"I told you to  _shut. Up_ ," Aveline barked, her forearm pressing against Isabela's windpipe and tendons until her lungs burnt with unshed air. "Can you  _never_  learn when to back the hell off, whore?"

The thin breath Isabela could manage wasn't enough to voice a reply, but that was probably good, all things considered; the burning spread from her lungs, lapping over the flesh of her belly, until she felt her inner thighs growing damp. It'd been a  _long_  time since anyone had been  _this_  rough with her...and lived to tell about it, anyway. Instead of speaking, then, Isabela lifted a booted leg, throwing it haphazardly across the backs of Aveline's thighs; if she were sober, she might think it a simple bid to unbalance the other woman, but at the moment she couldn't even feign interest in escape. The unexpected pressure was enough to pull the guardswoman forward, until the buckles at the front of her armour grazed against the insides of Isabela's thighs. A moan clawed its way out of the pirate's throat and she rolled her eyes, her pulse hammering in her neck, pressure building between her temples and between her legs in nearly-equal measure.

The weight against Isabela's throat eased all of a sudden, and the sudden rush of fresh blood made the pirate's head spin, but that hooked leg only hiked higher on the armoured woman's hips. "What do you  _want_ , whore?" Aveline pleaded, her tone overtly disgusted, but there was that keening sense of longing that had always been there, too.

"That's easy," Isabela groaned, blinking the spots from her eyes. "I want you to fuck me, Big Girl. Put down that shield you've been carrying for one night and-" Aveline's gloved hand clamped down hard on the pirate's mouth, filling it with the taste of sour steel and musty leather, but the guardswoman's eyes blazed dangerously in the shadows, drawing Isabela's attention.  _Maybe that was a_ bit _over the line_ , she conceded to herself, her nostrils flaring with the effort of her breaths.

Something cracked in Aveline's face, and it wouldn't have surprised Isabela overly much if the guardswoman had drawn one of her own daggers over her throat. The woman bared her teeth, her brows drawing down, like a great ginger wolf on the prowl. "Always the same with you, isn't it, whore?" She hissed through those teeth, her fingers wrenching harder on Isabela's jaw. "You think you can bluff your way out of anything and never face the consequences." Her snarl held a feverish note, as though she were almost trying to convince herself. "We'll see how you feel when somebody calls your bluff."

Aveline raised her right arm to her face, working at the leather straps of her vambrace and gauntlet with her teeth, seemingly intent on keeping Isabela's mouth shut with her left hand.  _Are you going to spank me, Big Girl?_  Isabela tried to get out, but she only managed "Mmrffmrrr."

"I told you to be quiet," Aveline stuttered, capturing her glove between her armour and Isabela's front. The steel bore down on the pirate's breasts as Aveline yanked her arm free, flexing her naked fingers for a moment at the edge of Isabela's vision.  _Oh, you're not going to_...but Aveline answered the pirate's unvoiced question by reaching down and gripping Isabela's raised knee. "If you want it so badly, I'll give it to you," the guardswoman panted, drawing that leg ferociously higher until Isabela's booted calf rested in the crook between Aveline's neck and pauldron-covered shoulder. The pirate's weight proved easily borne, as her right leg lifted by its own will to hook itself around the guardswoman's waist, giving her a more suitable anchor...though it also left her utterly exposed to whatever the guardswoman intended. That vengeful light danced on in Aveline's emerald eyes, and she paused only long enough to suck in a savage lungful of air before her calloused palm smacked heavily into Isabela's core, removing all doubt.

The impact send a surge of pleasure racing outward, weaving through the pirate's flesh, until she pushed a needy groan against the gloved hand still viced over her mouth. If she might've only been goading before, there was nothing sarcastic in the way her hips rolled forward into the lower hand now, nothing inauthentic about the desire that lit up her own nut-brown eyes and had her shoulders bearing back against the sandstone wall. "Why am I not surprised you don't wear any smalls?" Aveline wondered, though there were only a few traces of disgust left in her voice, from what Isabela could hear above her own thrumming heartbeat. The guardswoman kept her hand firm against Isabela's cunt, impervious to the pinned woman's writhing, and her head tilted forward so that she stared at Isabela from beneath arched brows. "Is this  _really_ what you want, Isabela?" She growled.

Isabela did her best to nod from underneath the woman's iron grip, and she muffled an affirmative noise, both of her legs tightening to pull the guardswoman closer. It was a demanding gesture, not a measure of affection in it, and Aveline seemed to sense that, for she made no move to surrender to the pirate's guidance. Instead she stiffened, her gauntleted hand peeling away from the pirate's bruised lips, though her fingers curled one by one about Isabela's throat as her hand settled just above the woman's collarbone. "Say it," Aveline demanded, almost too softly for Isabela to make out over the nocturnal sounds of Lowtown's busier streets, a few dozen feet away.

The pirate's head tilted back, which had the effect of pressing her throat forward into Aveline's steel, warmed by Isabela's own flesh. It wasn't every night she let herself be folded in half like this, arms bound and weapons out of reach, but that rough palm between her legs did its bit to drive out her misgivings...and, as much as she didn't  _like_  Aveline, particularly, the woman-shaped battering ram had earned something like trust over the last few months. " _Please_ ," Isabela managed, under her breath. "Fuck me, Aveline."  _Let's give the tomcats something to yowl_ _at_.

Aveline held her gaze steady on Isabela's face, and perhaps the pirate was too far gone to tell, but she could swear that she saw more than a hint of lust in those emerald eyes. Rather than answer in words, the guardswoman shifted her lower hand, her fingertips playing over the hoops of gold that scored Isabela's outer lips, three to each side. Three seemed the perfect number, for that was how many fingers Aveline lined up against her entrance. Isabela barely had time enough to take a breath before the guardswoman bucked forward, filling her up to the last knuckle with those thick digits. Isabela's walls clenched around the invading fingers and her lungs emptied in one long, sultry moan. Aveline's upper hand moved from the pirate's throat to her hip, and though Isabela whimpered at the absence, any complaint was wiped from her mind when the guardswoman rolled her hips yet again, sending another wave of terrible tension ripping from Isabela's centre to her limbs. The Big Girl didn't make a sound above a grunt; she didn't jeer or taunt, nor did she exhort Isabela to say her name aloud, like a foolish man likely would've done; Aveline just kept staring at Isabela's face, her own expression impassive as she witnessed the pirate's twitching cheeks and listened to her throaty screams. It nearly ruined Isabela when Aveline's rough thumb found the nub of flesh at the crown of the pirate's cuntlips, pinning her clit against the stud she wore, and Isabela's breaths ratcheted up to the top of her lungs...until Aveline's lips parted. "No," the guardswoman rasped, simply.

oOoOo

That word surprised Aveline; she hadn't intended to say it. She hadn't intended to say  _anything_...but she hadn't intended to fall so squarely into Isabela's trap, either. The woman's walls were drawn tight against her fingers, close to an edge Aveline herself hadn't fallen over in more weeks than she cared to count. She grimaced again, unmoved by the pleading look that stalked across the pirates features. "Why... _not?_ " Isabela whined, her voice shuddering, impetuous.

"Because you haven't earnt it," Aveline said, understanding the words only as she spoke them. "You think you're in control, that you've got the world wrapped around your finger, but you're  _not_." Her own voice shook with the effort of holding herself back, of giving in and letting the harlot have exactly what she wanted, like Isabela always got. Even if Aveline was three knuckles deep in the woman, she  _wouldn't_  let her walk away so easily.

Something dark moved in the shadows of Isabela's eyes, underneath the haze of desire that always seemed to lurk near the surface. "I'd say you're the one with  _me_  wrapped around  _your_  fingers, Big Girl," she drawled, pushing her hips forward another half-inch.

The guardswoman didn't flinch away from the challenge in her stare, her own gaze offering no pity. "Pout all you like," Aveline allowed, refusing to blink away the sweat burning in her eyes. "If you cum before I say so, you're not getting out of the brig until Bethany comes to fetch you." Mention of the female Hawke twin seemed to still the pirate's budding mutiny, and in a blink Isabela's face was a mask of sullen pleading...nearly as convincing as the previous expression, but a mask all the same.

"Alright," Isabela conceded, with a growl. "But if you take  _too_  long, I'll help the dwarf figure out a nickname for you," she breathed, giving Aveline a caramel smirk. "And you  _won't_  like it at all, Bi-"

For the third time that evening, Aveline shut the pirate up mid-phrase...though this time her hands were both occupied, and so the guardswoman managed it by lunging forward and claiming Isabela's mouth with her lips. Her tongue found its way between the pirate's teeth before Aveline even realised she was kissing her, but Isabela didn't let the kiss go unchallenged-her own tongue rose up to duel, coated with at least two different kinds of rum and Maker-knew what else she'd managed to lick in the last few days. Aveline spared a moment's thought for the sight they must present to anyone fool enough to pass down this particular stairwell; a long-haired guardsman hunched over a whore, probably taking advantage, the kind of riff raff that Aveline was training to weed out of the guard. A spark of anger put a bit of fire into the guardswoman's kiss, and she swallowed the pleading groans that her fingers tore out of the slattern, each buck of her hips sending her digits even deeper, scooting Isabela even higher on the wall until they were finally at eye-level.

She kissed with her eyes open, as she'd kissed Wesley and her lovers before him; with them, though, it had been a desire to read every reaction, to know each little twitch that her touch caused. Now her vigilance was due as much to wariness as to any purer motive...Aveline had been around Isabela long enough to never, ever trust her. Every furrow of the pirate's brow concealed suspicion, beneath every whimper lurked a betrayal waiting to pounce. But, somehow, the whore's resolve held out, even as Aveline's tongue danced in her mouth and Aveline's fingers filled her twitching walls with short, brutal thrusts. Aveline watched Isabela's eyes widen and then snap closed, felt her tongue give shape to the frantic whimpers squeezing through her throat, trying to say  _Please_.

It wasn't enough, not quite, but Aveline didn't trust the whore to be able to hold out much longer. With a hissed grunt, she ripped her mouth away from the pirate's quivering lips. " _Now_ ," she snarled, and at the same moment all three of her fingers twisted within Isabela, hooking upward until her blunt fingernails bit against the rough flesh hidden at the apex of the other woman's folds. A heartbeat passed, during which Isabela sucked in a lungful of air; Aveline's discarded gauntlet fell away, the sudden shift in pressure undoing the laces at the front of the pirate's bodice, and the guardswoman saw two glints of gold as her ears filled with Isabela's feral scream. It echoed off the walls, nearly as powerful as the crushing spasms which threatened to shatter Aveline's fingers. The scream renewed itself twice more, each accompanied by another wave of tension from deep within the bound pirate. At the end of the third siren's call, Isabela slumped a good six inches down the wall, caught only by Aveline's steady hands.

The guardswoman panted, her breath nearly as laboured as Isabela's, though as satisfaction dawned across the other woman's face, Aveline's belly filled with the hot lead of shame...not at what she'd done, precisely, but at what she'd been  _tricked_  into doing. With another grunt, she butted Isabela's left leg from her shoulder, doing her best to ease the woman onto her feet. She had the courtesy to ease her fingers from Isabela's core and offer her gloved hand to steady the trembling woman, but her emerald eyes shifted down, away from the source of her frustration, of her weakness. "Are you happy now, whore?" She sighed, still breathless. "Was that what you wanted?"

"...Depends," Isabela managed. "You...still...going to arrest me...Aveline?" It was the second time she'd used the guardswoman's name that night...probably the only time she'd ever used it twice in the same day, and it stung, like the second-to-last move of a chess match Aveline knew she was going to lose.

She grimaced, wiping the evening's evidence on the front of Isabela's bodice until her fingers were clean enough to pick up her gauntlet and don it once more. "You know I can't," she growled, shooting the smug-looking bitch a heated glance. "Even if it wasn't true, I'd never be able to live down the rumours you'd start with the other guards."

Isabela heaved a sigh, as though that were a pitiable consequence, but she couldn't hide her self-satisfied grin for more than a couple of heartbeats. "Well," she grunted, kicking off from the wall with a far-too-steady step, "I guess we can call it a draw, Big Girl. Will you do the honours, or will you make me hop up to the barracks in the morning to see if I can find anyone willing to undo these?" She'd turned around as she spoke, and now she jostled her forearms; they were crossed behind her back, a wrist shackled to the opposite arm, just above the elbow. It was a cumbersome way of binding a criminal, painful-though even now, Isabela didn't seem to mind that too much-and supposed to only be used when the fugitive was a suspected pickpocket and a flight risk.

The pirate was both in spades...the fact that she hadn't  _already_  managed to pick her way out of the manacles should have been cause enough for suspicion. But Aveline was tired, sick to death of the woman, and she couldn't wait to get back to her bunk. "Alright," she grumbled, fishing the manacles' key out from a pocket on the inside of her swordbelt. "But if I hear of you making any more trouble," she said, unlatching one set of chains, "I  _will_  send a platoon of guards after you, whore." When the key clicked in the fourth lock, Aveline was ready to be gone, ready to forget this night had ever happened...ready to forget the hunger still unfed that the pirate's display hadn't done anything to lessen.

In the blink of an eye, though, and with a triumphal cry from Isabela, Aveline found herself face-first against the very sandstone wall she'd tacked the pirate into only a few minutes before. Isabela's sour-sweet smell still clung to the dirty rock, almost enough to choke her, if a sudden wash of rage hadn't done the honours. Before Aveline knew it, it was  _her_  arms bound snugly behind her back, straining the ligaments in her shoulders. " _What in the Void are you doing?!_ " Aveline screamed; she'd anticipated betrayal, but nothing like  _this_. The sounds of Isabela's daggers sliding from the back of Aveline's belt, where she'd put them after detaining the pirate in the first place, spurred the guardswoman out of her shocked stupor; if it was a fight the crazy whore wanted, a fight she would get. Aveline launched herself backward, intent on rear-tackling Isabela into the opposite wall, expecting any second to feel one of those daggers find a joint in her armour…but Isabela was fast, faster than she had any right to be, and she spun out of Aveline's path. The sandstone came up to meet her shoulders with enough force to knock the breath from her lungs; if not for Wesley's shield, both of Aveline's shoulders would likely have been ripped out of joint.

"Easy there, Big Girl," Isabela purred, standing just outside of kicking range. Aveline had to blink away the stars in her eyes, but as she did so, she saw the pirate twirl her daggers with a flourish, sliding them back into her own shoulder-sheaths as she'd done a thousand times before. "...You thought I was going to kill you?" She drawled, chuckling darkly. "Oh, how little faith you have in me! I really  _should_  cut you for that, you know."

Aveline's nostrils flared with the force of her snort, her cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. " _Now_  what do you want, whore?" It was all she could do to keep herself from tackling the pirate, but in her mood, she'd probably not stop until she broke her ribs. No, as stupid as Aveline had been, she deserved this punishment. "What's your game?"

Isabela shrugged luxuriously, working her shoulders until they both sounded with satisfying pops. "You're supposed to be the Captain of the Guard," she purred. "Or at least you're training for it, soon."

A tear formed at the corner of Aveline's eye, but she blinked it back, growling. "Fat chance of that if you don't undo these cuffs and I get caught for your murder."

"Ooh, you say the  _nicest_  things," the pirate sing-songed, bringing her right hand up close to her mouth. After squinting, Aveline recognised the outline of the black key that stood guardian to her captivity. "Normally, I  _would_  kill anyone who presumed to tell me how and when I could get my jollies off," Isabela went on, "but, you see, I'm a captain, too." Her eyes narrowed at Aveline's snort of derision, and she slowly trailed the key down her neck, tilting her head back. "And  _as_  as captain, I feel it's my duty to show you how it's done." The key's teeth crossed the crux of her collarbones as she spoke, slipping along the valley between her breasts.

Aveline's eyes followed the key, and when it didn't stop at the front of Isabela's bodice, she got a sinking feeling about where it was headed. "You've already done enough," the guardswoman protested, wanting to look away, but finding herself incapable.

The key meandered down the curve of Isabela's belly at the same slow, steady clip. "In that case," the pirate mused, "I guess I'll just go find a bed to fall in...and leave you to wander back up to the Viscount's Keep to see if any of your law-abiding friends will help you out." By now she'd dragged the key down the front of her skirt, and with a sharp intake of breath, Isabela pulled up the cloth to give Aveline an unfiltered look at the rings she'd only felt before, three to each side of the pirate's cleft. With a skill that suggested practice, the pirate threaded the key through all six hoops, black iron stark against gold. Isabela's skirt dropped in the next instant, and she pivoted toward the steps, toward Lowtown. "And since you seem so fond of calling me a whore," she called over her shoulder, "I think I'll find a bed at the Rose tonight."

With that, the damnable slattern sauntered up the steps, away from the guardswoman. Aveline shook with uncontained rage, but she was trapped; the pirate had already proven herself fleeter of foot on more than one occasion, and if Aveline didn't follow, she'd have no choice but to resign her commission...if she were lucky enough not to get sent to the cells herself, or murdered before she reached the barracks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela gets her revenge for Aveline's attempted incarceration, but the guardswoman doesn't get out of the night without the ground shaking beneath her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for buttercup23 for beta-reading this story, and for pointing out a potential issue that's been tagged. This chapter has some questionable consent issues, at in the middle, so beware if you might find such issues triggering.

_Lowtown Alley_

_16 August 9:32 Dragon_

oOoOo

She  _probably_  wouldn't've turned the tables on Aveline if she'd given herself a moment to think, but because the Big Girl had tried to go all  _Captain of the Guard_  on the pirate, she hadn't been able to resist the temptation when her forearms finally escaped their bonds. But now that the thing was done, Isabela intended to press her advantage of this reversal of fortune; she had to keep a particular pace as she climbed the stairs, chased by the guardswoman's muttered curses. There were many different weights to balance if she wanted to pull the night off-skip too far ahead, and some disreputable scoundrel might take advantage of a lone, vulnerable guard...which Isabela might not be above, herself, if the guard in question wasn't an associate of Varric's. On the other hand, if she let the woman-shaped battering ram catch her, Aveline might just break Isabela's ribs on principle, her own reputation be damned.

Perhaps most importantly, that damned key might fall out of its hiding place if the pirate wasn't careful...and the way it slid against her slick inner lips, the pirate had to make an  _extra_  effort to be careful. Fortunately for Aveline, in the three-and-a-half months since Isabela washed up on the Wounded Coast, the pirate had learnt the rhythm of Lowtown's nighttime streets like her life depended on it...which, in many ways, it had. She guided the guardswoman through a serpent's nest of shortcuts and crosscuts that avoided the most eyes, and soon enough they were climbing another narrow set of stairs into the Red Lantern District. It was a back way, generally unknown to the establishment's clientele, almost impossible to navigate if you'd never done it before; Isabela supposed she was breaking one of Madam Lusine's rules by taking a guard to the back door, but what the proprietor never knew wouldn't kill the pirate.

Isabela fished down the front of her bodice for her own set of keys, hissing at the subtle sting in her breastbone that Aveline's gauntlet had given her. The guardswoman huffed to a stop, still swearing under her breath, though she'd had the good sense to keep from attracting too much attention in transit. "Where in the Void are we?" She growled, sounding even  _more_  angry.

"The Rose," Isabela whispered, rolling her eyes. "And  _I'm_  going to go to bed, Big Girl. You're welcome to follow me, or try to find your way back to the Keep on your own." She didn't chuckle at the flush that swallowed up most of Aveline's freckles, but amusement danced over the pirate's eyes, and she unlocked the narrow door with practiced motions. Aveline's answer came in the form of heavy footfalls, and the door latched securely on its own when she'd squeezed her shoulders past. The hallway was sparsely-decorated; tasteful, of course, but obviously not meant for customers to see. It was hardly brighter than the unlit alleyway outside, but that was just as well, since it meant Isabela's eyes didn't have to do any adjusting. It didn't take her long to make her way to the second-floor door that her second key fit.

Isabela's room was a tiny thing, even smaller than her quarters in the Hanged Man, but it was  _hers_. She hesitated only long enough to swallow a stitch of doubt; she'd never brought another living soul across this threshold in the two months she'd claimed it, and she hadn't intended to, before tonight...but there was nothing a moment's sober reflection could do to change her course, so the pirate slid her key into the lock and breathed sharply in at the sound of the latch coming undone. She eased the door inward with the toe of her boot and then stepped sideways, shooting the guardswoman a smirk. "After you, Big Girl. If there're any assassins skulking around in there, I'm sure you can take them with your hands tied behind your back."

Aveline took a deep, measured breath. "Maker help me," she spat. "I will  _hurt you_ , whore."

The pirate's head cocked to one side. "We'll see about that," she breathed, her shoulders and chest still aching from the guardswoman's earlier handling. Isabela pointed with her chin, and after a snarl, Aveline trudged heavily into the tiny space, her arms twitching like she was still testing the steel that bound them.

Darkness fell, heavy and complete, when Isabela followed her into the chamber. "Don't move," she warned, as lightly as she judged necessary to keep the woman from kicking out blindly. It took the pirate only a few seconds to secure the door, and she had a taper going in less than a minute. Stick by stick, she lit enough candles to throw a good amount of light into the room; unlike the venues for clients, there was not a single stitch of carpeting, nor any fabric along the walls...instead they were enclosed by rich hardwood, stained a rich mahogany. A modest bed filled nearly half of the too-square space, a bearskin rug at its foot, and a writing desk overflowed with scrolls and scribbled parchment. But, if Isabela closed her eyes, she could  _almost_  pretend to feel the swell of the sea beneath her feet. Almost like it was Casavir's little cabin back on the  _Call_. It wasn't much...but it would have to do. "So,  _captain_ ," she drawled, moving to lean back against the wall beside her bed. "Can I call you 'captain'?" She mused, answering the woman's scowl with a lopsided grin. "You can call  _me_  'captain'."

Aveline stood as thick as bronze, halfway between the bed and the door. "I won't be doing that," she exclaimed, under her breath, not quite able to meet Isabela's eyes.

"Neither will I," Isabela said, her voice going cold. "Because you're  _not_  a captain; not yet."  _That_  earned her a cutting look, that only served to spread her smirk wider. "Oh, I can see that you  _want_ it...you've never wanted anything more, except maybe Wesley, and you can't have him anymore because he's dea-"

A vein squirmed in the guardswoman's neck. "You will not-"

"I didn't say you could talk," the pirate whispered, her face falling like a hammer, though she still posed lazily. Against all reason, her interruption stilled the guardswoman's tongue. "You're beneath my roof now, Aveline," Isabela went on in the same low tone, and she kept her gaze steady on the woman's face, even as Aveline's emerald stare faltered. "Out there, in Kirkwall, you're the law; I flout it, and I damned sure don't respect it, but I can't deny it...but in  _here_  you're just another bilge rat." The edge of a sneer touched on her tone, and she waited for a rebuke to rise out of the bound woman's throat, but the clouds in Aveline's expression failed to resolve into a decision. "As I was saying," Isabela went on, "you want this, but you're afraid you'll fuck it up. You're afraid they won't listen to you...because you're foreign, because you're too hard, because you're a woman."

Aveline's eyes widened. "How did you…" But her words trailed off when she caught the flash in Isabela's stare.

The pirate said nothing for three full breaths, and then she continued, as though the guardswoman hadn't spoken. "And you're right; the bastards won't listen. They'll talk back, question your orders, call you names and gossip behind your back. And if you let them get to you, you'll harden up so much that you break into a thousand pieces, and there'll be nobody left to pick you up again." Isabela's head shook from right to left, slowly. "You don't want that."

Another flush had crept across Aveline's cheeks by then, her head bending forward halfway through the pirate's warning. There were no tears, not yet, but they probably weren't long in coming. "What should I do?" Her voice was hardly audible, with all the yearning of an unanswered prayer.

Isabela knew the question hadn't been directed at her, but she answered anyway. "You learn to bend without breaking," she advised. "That way you stay above the waves, where you belong, instead of getting dragged down to the bottom of the sea." She pushed herself off of the wall and came to sit at the foot of the bed, her boots planted firmly to either side of the rug. "You'll have to do quite a few things you won't like. Some things will make you want to cut your tongue out, but you'll do them, or you'll drown. Do you understand, Aveline?"

Aveline's eyes hitched up, her anger giving way to uncertainty, and maybe a little bit of denial, all laced through with an ounce of shame. "You're going to put me in my place." It wasn't quite an accusation, but it wasn't a question, either.

Isabela inclined her head. "For tonight," she allowed. "And then we can both pretend you never found me by the docks." A glimmer of the authority she once wielded gave the pirate a yearning hunger for more, but she held herself back from her old habits...if she reached beyond her grasp here, there was no sailing away. "Look at me," she whispered, and the guardswoman did, emerald eyes unblinking. "Do you want that key I took from you?" Aveline swallowed and nodded, evidently not trusting herself to speak. "Do you want me to give it to you, or do you want to  _earn_  it, Aveline?"

The question did much to cut through the storm that played across much of the guardswoman's expression, replacing it with a hope, undercut with her more usual suspicion. "You would end this?" She wondered, under her breath. "Now?"

The pirate nodded, a lock of hair escaping from her bandana to fall across her right eye. "Say the word, and I will let you go," she vowed, frowning slightly; she'd been locked in enough little wooden rooms in her life to know how much someone could come to hate it. "But if you walk out the door now, you might never learn how to swim. The choice is yours, Aveline."

Honey held emerald for a few heartbeats, and Aveline's armour creaked with the force of her inhale. Eventually she closed her eyes, her lips working silently, before a mask of calm bled over her features. "Alright," she said at last, her eyelids parting halfway. "I'd rather earn it than have you thinking I owe you anything, Isabela."

"Well, then," Isabela cooed, grinning as she leaned back onto her elbows. She let her thighs fall apart until the loose hem of her skirt rolled up on its own; the motion also put a reassuring tension into the rings that lined her outer lips, still held together by that thin shaft of iron. "Kneel."

oOoOo

That one word seemed to jump straight from Aveline's ears to her legs, and her knees were already halfway to the floor before she consciously registered its intent; if the guardswoman were honest with herself, she'd been expecting this since getting driven face-first into the wall, down in Lowtown. She hadn't wanted to acknowledge her own prescience, thinking that somehow, she could get through the night without having to do what Isabela was clearly expecting her to do...but then the whore had offered to let her go, no questions asked. It  _had_  to be a trick, surely...some cruel joke, an olive branch extended only so that it might be snapped in twain when Aveline reached for it. And so the guardswoman did not give Isabela the satisfaction of begging for the freedom that she should never have taken in the first place.

By the time Aveline's knees hit the bearskin, she was committed to securing the literal key to her release the only way available to her. She did her best to swallow the doubts that the pirate had dragged up from within her a few minutes before; Aveline Vallen had been a lieutenant in King Cailan's army, she knew how to give orders...and, more importantly, when to take them. That discipline kept her from flinching away from the sight of her deliverance, nestled snugly at the confluence of Isabela's thighs, iron and gold glistening from the guardswoman's prior indulgence in the pirate's whims. Aveline drew in a shallow breath, swallowing against a tingle that rose in the back of her throat-she had killed men in greater measure than than anyone she knew, and by the Maker she would not balk at this-and with a great a great sigh the guardswoman leaned forward, her broad tongue snaking out between her lips to press flat against Isabela's cunt. The taste filled her mouth like a shot of cheap whiskey, warm iron cut through with salt and cinnamon and hot flesh, and Aveline told herself that the strangled groan that reached her ears had to have come from farther up the bed, rather than from her own throat. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she held herself there, attention draining away from the ache in her shoulders as her lungs filled with the pirate's heady scent.

Her tongue was hardly nimble at the best of times, and this night proved no exception; rather than deftly working the key's teeth through the rungs made by Isabela's piercings, Aveline found herself lapping thickly, the muscle working from the very bottom to the top of the pirate's interwoven lips in long, slow strokes that seemed to make no progress at all toward her goal...though Isabela's breath soon came in long, hissed gasps, and she helpfully rolled her hips against the guardswoman's tongue. The pirate shifted her right leg, draping it across Aveline's shoulder and shield-bearing back, and it wasn't long before the guardswoman felt a subtle pressure from the limb, silently begging her to push deeper into Isabela's core. Her own heart pounded in her ears, adding a strong undercurrent to the pirate's sibilant chorus of groans and shuddering hisses. With only a moment's hesitation, Aveline leaned lower as Isabela arched her hips up, and the guardswoman's tongue slipped beneath the pirate's nethermost piercings, until the muscle was half-buried in the walls of Isabela's cunt.

The yearning cry was too strong in Aveline's throat to simply be an echo from the woman on the bed, and she could no longer deny the aching heat that had been building up within her ever since she'd first pinned the pirate against the wall. Her eyes slipped fully closed even as salted cinnamon coated her tongue, washing out the traces of iron from the key, and she fell into a new task with unthinking abandon; rather than her own liberation, Aveline's intentions became much more immediate, her lips parting wider to drive her tongue deeper into Isabela's eager flesh. The pirate's cries took on a rhythm of their own, a musical sound Aveline had so seldom heard that she had trouble placing it in her memory...until she realised that Isabela must be moaning in her mother tongue, and that revelation spurred the guardswoman on, an odd pride mixing with the budding desire which slowly consumed her uncertain shame.

Isabela's hips began bucking more powerfully in long, slow waves, and Aveline's eyes snapped open when she felt a slick brush of metal on the side of her nose; the pirate had taken the top of the key between two fingers, and she slowly unweaved it from her cuntlips, which Aveline encouraged by curling her tongue upward between her inner lips. The muscle followed the key's progress until Isabela's free hand settled on the top of Aveline's head, fingers rooting firmly in the guardswoman's hair and urging her to return to the pirate's depths. Though her jaw was already aching, Aveline succumbed, diving back into Isabela's centre with a renewed energy, driven by the desire to free her arms at long last.  _And then…_ she might have thought to ask herself, had she been capable. As it stood, though, the guardswoman could only stifle her own more muted groans against Isabela's flesh as the pirate pulled the key out of the last two golden rings. She dragged the key's teeth around the swollen nub of her clitoris, each twitch of iron adding another jolt to the music of her moans, and every tremor of the pirate's voice drove Aveline's reason further away from her senses.

"Oh,  _fuck_ …" Isabel panted, her leg falling away from Aveline's frame as the guardswoman's tongue began working inside her like a piston. Her scalp protested when Isabela's grip torqued her hair, trying to drag her even deeper, and she felt the pirate's tense walls quivering on the edge of another abyss. Different layers of frustration swirled within Aveline, and she expressed them with a low, pained, half-feral growl that rumbled far into Isabela's cunt; the pirate's chorus cut off suddenly, her whole body going as taut as a harpstring...and then an animal scream broke through the silence, broke through the last of Aveline's reticence. She met the pirate's climax with a grunt of her own, her tongue working greedily at Isabela's weeping walls until the pirate used the hand in her hair to wrench her head back. Isabela's hips rolled several more times as her cries became more sultry again, but she shivered in time with Aveline's ragged breath. "If I didn't know better," the pirate mused, breathless, "I'd say you  _enjoyed_  that…"

Heat blazed across the guardswoman's cheeks, and she cast her eyes down to her own knees, frowning at the feeling of Isabela's nectar cooling on her chin. "Shut up, whore," she said, but there was no feeling behind it, and the pirate actually  _laughed_  at her. The ache in her shoulders became sharper, even as the tingle between her thighs stubbornly held on, and she couldn't honestly say which one pulled a whimper from her throat. "Are we finished?"

The pirate shifted, dragging herself into a sitting position. Aveline flinched as the other woman's fingers moved from the top of her head to cup her cheek, but she felt unable to resist as Isabela coaxed her face to tilt up, until she was looking right in those rich, brown eyes. Somehow, she knew that even if her arms hadn't been bound, she wouldn't have been able to move away in that moment. "Do you want us to be finished, Big Girl?" She asked, hunching to bring her face closer to the guardswoman's. "...Or do you want me to play you like a set of drums until I make you cum so hard you almost break your toes?" As much as she'd obviously enjoyed Aveline's attentions over the course of the evening, the pirate seemed as well-rested as always, her breath almost even, while Aveline's chest still heaved behind her breastplate.

This offer was no less plain than the first had been, and Isabela didn't seem interested in waiting for a response before she leaned in, her arms slipping behind Aveline's back. The guardswoman's lips parted as if by instinct, having Isabela's mouth so close, but when she heard and felt the scrape of that Void-taken key against her manacles, Aveline felt another blush bloom on her face. She tried looking away again, but Isabela lunged, closing that last inch between their lips. Her groan filled Aveline's mouth along with her tongue, the pirate evidently taking pleasure in tasting herself there, though the kiss proved no distraction from the work of her fingers. The guardswoman noticed yet another nub of metal in the muscle, which she'd missed in the force and urgency of their first kiss, back in Lowtown. In barely a dozen of Aveline's hammering heartbeats she had both of her arms free, the manacles falling heavily to the floor.

The guardswoman's immediate liberation did not infuse her limbs with enough strength to break free from the pirate's lips; instead, her newly-freed hands leapt up to clasp Isabela's corseted flanks, though she could not feel the softness of the woman's flesh through her gauntlets. Her tongue curled in her mouth, trying to push back against the invading muscle, but Isabela left no weakness to exploit, as commanding in her kiss as she must have been on the deck of any ship. When Aveline tried shifting forward in order to take the initiative, she found the pirate implacable; indeed, Aveline's mouth filled with Isabela's full-throated growl, the pirate's fingers slithering over the joints of her armour, hunting for straps to loosen and gaps to widen.

A bead of sweat trickled down Aveline's cheek, and she suddenly realised how stifled she felt by the steel around her frame, far too hot and confining for such a small room after her earlier efforts. As one, she and Isabela seemed to come to the same decision, and they both broke off their lips' embrace to gasp for air. The guardswoman leaned back on her heels, grunting with the effort of untying her vambraces and tossing off her gauntlets, while Isabela's agile fingers worked at the buckles of her shield and scabbard; in only a few moments, her arms were uncovered below the elbow and the weight on her back was halved. She didn't trust herself to speak, but the pirate evidently didn't need any words, apparently taking Aveline's continued presence as answer enough to her offer. The rest of the guardswoman's armour came off piecemeal, the guardswoman easing each item onto the hardwood floor with something approaching reverence, until there was nothing left of her outer uniform but greaves and boots. At last she stood, clothed only in a padded undertunic which left her arms bare and ended midway down her thighs, as naked as anyone had seen her since she'd received her private quarters in the Viscount's Keep.

Isabela sat perched on the edge of the bed, still sporting every stitch of her usual garb, her brown eyes expectant as they swept up and down Aveline's front. Nerves tingled across the guardswoman's shoulders and deep in her belly, old worries that she'd thought long since dispelled; she was too big, too strong, too  _mannish_. Too freckled. Too hard. Arguments that Wesley had settled with his lips and adoring fingers, but it seemed they hadn't quite been defeated, and it had been a  _long_  time since they'd been given any kind of challenge. Those doubts had Aveline's fingers fidgeting at the hem of her tunic, sneaking shy glances at Isabela. "How…" She tried, her voice cracking under the pressure of unsated hunger and unsounded screams. "How do you do it?"

The pirate's head tilted until that stray lock of hair fell away from her eye. "Do what, Big Girl?" She wondered, not unkindly.

_Whatever you want_ , Aveline thought, but she swallowed hard against airing it. "How are you so...comfortable?" She asked instead. "With...how you look?" She had to force the question out, half under her breath, and her eyes twitched down from Isabela's face to the rug on the floor...though she couldn't pretend she hadn't seen every inch of the woman in between.

A chuckle sounded, like a deep creek in springtime. "Are you calling me ugly, Aveline?" She mused, thickly, though she leaned forward until her eyes caught the guardswoman's line of sight. "I can't answer that," she admitted, her own hands moving to the outsides of Aveline's thighs, fingers playing just beneath the hem of the guardswoman's tunic. "Not without a  _lot_  more rum than your untimely intervention allowed me to gulp down, anyway." A brief shadow flickered behind the pirate's eyes, but she covered it with a wolfish grin. "But I'm much more curious to see how  _you_  look underneath that shift." And, without any more warning than that, Isabela stood up in one fluid motion, hooking her fingers on the last layer of thick fabric that still clung to Aveline's frame. It rumpled as the guardswoman lifted her arms, bunching about her broad shoulders, until at last the cloth cleared her arms; the pirate tossed it aside with much less respect than Aveline had showed to the rest of her armour. "There," Isabela sighed, eyeing the taller woman quite deliberately, from the tops of her feet to the rounded point of her chin.

Aveline willingly shut her eyes to evade the pirate's scrutiny, but when a warm hand planted firmly on her belly, she did not pull away. "I suppose I should feel flattered," she said, her nerves lending a bit of acid to her tone. "But then again, your standards aren't very onerous."

Isabela clicked her tongue in mock disapproval, and her free hand claimed the side of Aveline's neck. "Too much talking," she whispered, her breath playing over Aveline's bare collarbone. A moment later her tongue landed heavily in the hollow between the guardswoman's neck and shoulder, and Aveline's head tilted sideways and backward of its own accord. Her own breath caught in her throat when the hand at her belly ventured even lower, the pirate's calloused palm grinding over the top of Aveline's furred mound while her fingers sought the too-long-untended cleft between the guardswoman's thighs.

" _Maker_ ," Aveline panted, the first intelligible word that came to mind. Her own fingers curled at her sides for a moment, before they sought once more to command the pirate's flanks. Before her hands could make contact, however, Isabela pivoted with surprising strength; her fingers dug into Aveline's flesh and her hip came up sharply between the guardswoman's thighs as she twisted. Shorn of the weight of her armour, Aveline proved more than easy enough for the pirate to heft off of her feet, and the room spun as though it was Aveline herself who'd spent the day flouncing from pub to pub. Her fingers closed on air as she landed hard on the bed, the impact driving a grunt out of her lungs, several strands of fiery hair escaping the cowhide band to fall across her face.

Isabela stood proudly at the foot of the bed, hands on her hips, eyes slowly meandering over the lines and curves that Aveline's muscled body offered. Aveline felt her flesh tingle wherever that honeyed gaze struck her, but there was too much naked lust in the pirate's stare for the guardswoman to imagine any hint of mockery. Then, without a word, Isabela began the much-less-involved task of disrobing herself; it took loosening a few laces on her bodice and the corset beneath, and in the space of a few breaths, the white and blue garments found a home overtop Aveline's stacked armour. In the low candlelight, Aveline could see full well the golden studs behind the woman's nipples that she'd only glanced in the Lowtown alleyway, as well as the light network of scars that Isabela's lifestyle and aversion to armour had earned her. The guardswoman's lips parted, but any question she might have thought of fled when Isabela planted a still-booted knee on the bed, between her calves. A thin groan escaped her parted lips as the pirate took up one of those calves, and Isabela lifted the freckled leg to her mouth, until her lips brushed lightly over Aveline's ankle.

The guardswoman gripped handfuls of the pirate's own bedsheets as Isabela slowly worked soft kisses down the underside of her calf, throwing the occasional arresting glance across Aveline's body. She felt paralyzed, unworthy of such affection, but her flesh was too greedy for the attention to push it away. By the time the pirate's lips had meandered halfway down her inner thigh, Aveline's hips writhed in anticipation. Her eyes widened again and a strangled cry pushed at her throat, however, when Isabela reared back, dropping the guardswoman's raised leg in preference for the other. Isabela's chuckle was even throatier than before as she heard Aveline's plaintive whine, and she seemed to enjoy taking even longer to work her way down her recently-freed captive's leg.

This time, when Isabela reached that magic spot halfway down Aveline's thigh, she let her tongue slip out from between her wandering lips, and the muscle took the lead in meandering over the guardswoman's flesh...only to pause yet again, not three finger-widths from Aveline's aching centre. The pirate shifted, settling more comfortably between the guardswoman's legs, bringing her hands to rest just below Aveline's knees. There she perched, her keen eyes ranging up Aveline's trembling torso, each warm puff of breath tingling over the woman's outer lips. "You want me to spread you open," the pirate gruffed, "and eat you like your cunt was ambrosia." It wasn't a question, but Isabela waited all the same, and when Aveline had nothing but a groan to answer her with, she barked a laugh. "Say it," she demanded. "Tell me what you want, Aveline, and I'll give it to you."

Aveline's head lifted up off the bed and she propped herself up on her elbows, doing her best to meet that expectant gaze. " _Please_ ," she breathed, hardly able to pronounce the word. "Fuck me, Isabela," she begged, all too aware that she'd wrenched the same request from the pirate, earlier in the night.

Before she had a proper chance to reflect on that symmetry, however, Isabela dove tongue-first into her aching cunt with a growl of such hungry delight that the air all but fled from Aveline's lungs. Her lower lips parted all too eagerly before the intruding muscle, her hips lurching forward by instinct. Isabela lapped at the guardswoman's walls with uncoaxed earnestness, her own groans of pleasure nearly as loud as the cries that her tongue wrang out of Aveline; the woman's pale fingers soon abandoned the bedsheet in favour of forking through Isabela's hair and bandana, and her calves found their way around the pirate's shoulders. That stud in Isabela's tongue did nothing at all to beat back the mounting tension that seemed to curl around the core of Aveline's very being, and the guardswoman found herself teetering on her own edge in short order...though the first time she thought she would fall over it, Isabela's tempo changed just subtly enough to keep Aveline dancing along the precipice. Aveline felt her toes begin to curl for the third or fourth time when that stud found its way to the crown of her cuntlips, only for the pirate to pull back half an inch. "Not yet," Isabela groaned, and she  _laughed_  at the guttural, frustrated scream that tore from Aveline's breast.

As quick as a water snake, Isabela slithered up the guardswoman's body, planting fiery kisses across Aveline's belly and breasts as she went. Aveline couldn't help tilting her head back, offering her neck up to those kisses as the pirate straddled her left thigh; a heartbeat later, Isabela's fingers forked through the roots of Aveline's hair, her tongue driving through the guardswoman's lips. In that same moment she dragged her hips forward, grinding her pierced cuntlips into Aveline's overstimulated core. Her mouth filled with her own essence, her hips rose to meet the pirate's sex hungrily, but still her release escaped her...until Isabela barked a single syllable into their kiss, which might have been mistaken for a simple grunt, but to Aveline's straining ears it sounded like  _Now_.

The world bled white in the edges of the guardswoman's vision and she sucked in a cool rush of air, as Isabela had thrown her head back at the same time; in the next heartbeat, the room filled with their twinned screams, waves of tension giving way to a pleasure and heat the guardswoman had resigned herself to never properly feel again...but such lonely thoughts could find no purchase amidst the dissolving landscape of Aveline's mind. White turned to black as her eyes squeezed shut, her throat turning rough and raw with the fourth-and then fifth-scream that her orgasm tore from her. A lifetime later, when her flesh sharpened to other sensations, she discovered that her fingers had clawed their way down Isabela's back, all the way to the curve of her hips. Her fingertips felt damp, and when she ran a finger across the pirate's spine, Isabela hissed good-naturedly. "...Sorry," the guardswoman mumbled, trying to catch her breath beneath the pirate's anchoring weight.

"Shh," Isabela whispered, bringing her own fingertip over Aveline's lips. She looked as smug as a fox in a henhouse, and not nearly as drunk as the guardswoman felt. After a good few minutes of repose, the pirate slowly extricated herself from the guardswoman's limbs, rolling off of the bed and onto her feet with far too much grace. "Feel free to catch forty winks if you need to, Big Girl," she said, stifling what might have been a yawn in a less hedonistic woman.

Aveline's throat felt too raw to form words, but she managed, just barely. "Where are you going?"

The pirate was already wrapping herself back into her corset, but she paused long enough to shoot the guardswoman a devilish grin. "Out," was all she would admit to as she readjusted the laces on her bodice. "Make sure you leave a silver on the desk before you leave," she said, once she'd made herself as presentable as she ever did. "I do have a reputation to maintain, you know."

Even in the languid afterglow of her release, Aveline found the energy to knit her brows together. "Shut up, whore," she breathed, and she heard the pirate's cackle echoing in her mind long after Isabela had gone.


End file.
